


His Heart Was Like A Sensitive Plant, That Opens For A Moment In The Sunshine

by ShowMeAHero



Series: reality is finally better [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Books, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Ice Cream, Love, M/M, Romance, Sunshine - Freeform, Warm Summer Afternoons, What Lovely Boys, also plenty of bronte references and I really don't know why?, and I just love Jehan so much that I just can't sometimes, because they're perfect, shameless fluff, they just kind of happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:32:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan and Courfeyrac set up a hammock for this exact purpose. But don't let anyone know - Courfeyrac has a reputation as a wild sex fiend to protect, evidently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Heart Was Like A Sensitive Plant, That Opens For A Moment In The Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> I love Jehan so much, and Courfeyrac is just so adorable and precious, and I ship them, and I love them, and Jehan is my favorite character study probably, so I just WRITE because they're the BEST and AUGHHH

Courfeyrac came out of the bedroom after his shower with his curly hair still damp and a pair of pajama pants hanging off his hips. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his hair curling at the ends and tickling his hand as he padded through his apartment in his sock feet. He peeked in to each room as he passed, but there was no sign of Jehan anywhere. He frowned and ducked into the kitchen.

“Jehan?” Courfeyrac called softly, opening the door to the pantry and sticking his head inside. When there was still no sign of his poetic boyfriend anywhere in sight, he turned his attention to the freezer and took out a pint of Karamel Sutra. He grabbed one spoon and already had a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth when he suddenly realized exactly where Jehan would be. He smiled around the spoon and left the apartment.

He peered over the side of the railing into their apartment building’s grassy courtyard and was not surprised to find Jehan laying in the hammock the two of them had tied up between two trees at the beginning of summer. He hopped inside, unlocked their front door, and shut it behind him before he hopped down the stairs to the courtyard three at a time. Jehan was laying in the hammock, dozing off, a heavy book open on his chest, his long strawberry-blond curls out of their normal braid and spread out around and under him. He had on one of Courfeyrac’s old t-shirts (this one was faded and green and read _“I’m magically delicious!”_ , and it was far too large for Jehan’s slim frame, despite his long muscles) and a pair of boxers (that seem to have once been white with light pink and light blue plaid, but someone had painted them since then - most likely Grantaire). Courfeyrac could see a whole galaxy of orange freckles painted onto his deliciously pale skin.

“Jehan,” Courfeyrac whispered right above his boyfriend’s head. He stuck a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth as Jehan blinked his eyes open and squinted against the sun. He focused on Courfeyrac and smiled, and Courfeyrac’s stomach flipped. He felt special for receiving that smile, from that man.

“Did you bring me ice cream?” Jehan asked, his voice scratchy with sleep. He cleared his throat and dog-eared his book before shutting it and reaching over the side of the hammock to lay the thick tome in the soft green grass. Courfeyrac poked at his thigh with the end of the spoon, and Jehan shifted.

“Only if you feed some to me, too,” Courfeyrac informed him. He smiled and passed the ice cream and spoon to Jehan so he could maneuver himself into the hammock with both hands. He eventually made it in, and he carefully shifted Jehan so that his slim boyfriend was half-on top of him. Jehan turned onto his stomach and opened his mouth. Courfeyrac mimicked him automatically, and he received a mouthful of ice cream as a reward. Courfeyrac smiled. Jehan smiled back before feeding himself a large spoonful.

“You’re the best boyfriend,” Jehan murmured around the ice cream. Courfeyrac took the spoon and the pint from him and placed them both in the grass. Jehan leaned over the side of the hammock to put the lid on the pint container securely.

“I know. I brought you ice cream, so now I only need three sacks of potatoes and a goat and I’ll own you,” Courfeyrac joked. Jehan grinned and burrowed into Courfeyrac. He tucked his head under his boyfriend’s chin, lined their chests up, and tangled his long, freckled legs with Courfeyrac’s pajama-clad ones. Their feet touched slightly, and Jehan giggled into the hollow beneath Courfeyrac’s throat. He reached down with his left hand to hold onto Courfeyrac’s right hand while his other hand moved up to wrap itself in Courfeyrac’s curled, damp hair.

“You don’t need the goat, you already own me,” Jehan said quietly into Courfeyrac’s skin. “The potatoes might be nice, though. You know how I love mashed potatoes.”

“I do know how you love mashed potatoes,” Courfeyrac agreed. He raised his left hand to stroke Jehan’s long hair gently, revelling in the feeling of soft curls of hair flowing through his fingers like water. Jehan made a noise that was strangely close to purring. Courfeyrac smiled. “What book were you reading, there?”

“ _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_ ,” Jehan answered, his words breathing hot air over Courfeyrac’s bare skin. “It’s lovely so far. I hope Gilbert realizes he’s meant for Helen.”

“Oh, so do I,” Courfeyrac sympathized, though he had never read the book himself. He found it easier to just agree with Jehan when he got invested in a story. “The perfect romance.”

“Mm.” Jehan lifted his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Courfeyrac replied with a smile. Jehan scooted up a bit so that he could press their lips together briefly. Courfeyrac followed when Jehan pulled away, chasing his boyfriend’s lips as they left him. Jehan laughed and dropped his head back down, his strawberry-blond curls creating a curtain around their faces as he twisted his body up to kiss Courfeyrac properly. Courfeyrac sighed, and pushed his own head forward, letting his eyes slide shut as he felt Jehan’s tongue touch his. Jehan made a small moaning sound before he separated from him.

“I’m not having sex with you on the hammock,” Jehan scolded. Courfeyrac frowned.

“I really don’t see why not. Everyone’s probably at work or something,” Courfeyrac reasoned. Jehan shook his head before letting it come back down to rest under Courfeyrac’s chin, his ear pressed to his chest.

“Later. Let’s just lay here right now,” Jehan murmured. Courfeyrac nodded; he was honestly quite content to just lay here in the warm sun with Jehan, but he kept that a secret - he had a reputation to uphold, after all. Certainly not with Jehan, not anymore, but, you know. In general. Jehan stretched out, languid, like a jungle cat, before tangling his limbs up with Courfeyrac’s again. He yawned.

“Are you real?” Courfeyrac asked softly, his words nearly vanishing into Jehan’s hair. His poet shrugged, but of course he was real. See how the stray wisps of his hair rose in the wind; see how his eyes closed in contentment; see how his lips parted ever so slightly. Courfeyrac snuck a hand under Jehan’s shirt to rest on the warm small of his back.

“Nope. I’m an alien, and I’ve come to study your race. So far, I’m not overly impressed,” Jehan joked. Courfeyrac kissed the top of his head.

“I’m your favorite human, though?” Courfeyrac asked. Jehan pretended to think for a moment.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Jehan hummed. Courfeyrac kissed the top of his head again, and Jehan broke into a grin that could rival the blinding sun above them. “Just kidding. Of _course_ you are. There’s no competition, really.”

“Good. I worry.” Courfeyrac let his thumb rub small circles into the soft skin of Jehan’s back.

“No need to worry,” Jehan assured him. “No competition.”

“I believe you.” Courfeyrac yawned and shifted so he was further nestled in the hammock. Jehan followed, and the pairing of the poet and the direct sunlight was as warm and comfortable as a blanket. Jehan reached up and let his hand run along Courfeyrac’s jaw. He lingered, then left it there, too warm and sleepy to bother moving it. He yawned, as Courfeyrac did, and let his eyes fall shut.

“What’re you gonna dream ‘bout?” Jehan asked, his words partially slurred in his nearly-sleeping state.

“With any luck, you,” Courfeyrac answered. He squinted against the sunlight, watching the emerald leaves for a moment before the sun became too much. He turned his head to the side and pressed his lips to a cluster of freckles beside the bone of Jehan’s thin wrist. Jehan made a humming noise before he fell completely asleep. Courfeyrac pressed his forehead against Jehan’s palm and allowed himself to fall asleep there, as well, warm and content, with Jehan securely on top of him and his world steady and stable beneath him.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the title from 'The Tenant of Wildfell Hall'. I don't know, man. It just worked.
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
